


Up into the night

by Ellanor



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, but this hardened her beyond return, having to watch her parents die in front of her, my poor daughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:26:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8308396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellanor/pseuds/Ellanor
Summary: "Beyond the forest and up into the night..." the mother sang to the daughter, watching how starlight danced in her gaze. Tauriel remembers her parents only in confused dreams and from the words of others.  Oh, how she wishes they would have never left her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Evangeline Lilly said this in an interview and this sparked the idea:
> 
> “… a part of Tauriel’s backstory is that she is an orphan. Her parents were killed by orcs. When you understand that, you suddenly understand how and why this girl became the lethal killing machine that she is, how she became the head of the elven guard, how she got taken under Thranduil’s wings, and why she’s so passionate about fighting the evil that is in Middle Earth.”

“Tauriel! Tolo hi!” (Come now.) The mother summoned her daughter with simple words, then watched how the elfling gently stepped towards her. Not long had passed since her daughter first learned how to walk and Itaril was as proud as a mother can be. It will not be long until Tauriel will learn to speak as well. The captain eagerly expected that moment. The little child paced clumsily in her mother’s arms and from behind Itaril felt the embrace of her husband’s hands. With a grateful smile, the she-elf allowed herself immersion into the moment. It was one of the rare days when duty allowed them to spend time together, as a family. The patrols in the last months have proved that the realm was in no immediate danger. Some time passed since orcs last ventured so close to their borders and even from the south there came no news of trespassers.

The family chose a glade, far from the Halls, to meditate into. It was one of the rare patches of forest that had the sight of the sky above. The light of the afternoon sun lighted the glade beautifully, with the three silvan elves at its center.

The elfling bore the fiery hair of her mother as well as her green eyes. She was the treasure of her and Vanarion’s life. Tauriel laughed with her father and Itaril watched them, a sense of gratefulness stepping in her heart. The pregnancy had not been entirely kind to her and she still needed some time before resuming her post as Captain of the Guard. Her husband, in the position of Lieutenant, proved to command well and the King was pleased with the arrangements. When Itaril would have recovered enough, Vanarion was to take her place as the one to raise the child further.

“One day I shall teach her the art of bow-striking and dagger-wielding.” Itaril said, looking proudly into her green eyes. “As well as Hwerwe. Your father can teach you the dance of the shield and sword, though I sense the first to be your weapons.” She continued, passing her into Vanarion’s arms. With one quick move she removed one of her daggers from its sheath and brought it to her daughter’s eye-line.

“Gaze upon this, little one. They were made by one of our greatest smiths and have served me well in battle.” The elfling raised one of her hands, trying to touch the sharp blade. But the mother was quick enough to hide it back into its sheath.

“Her grandfather has sent word. He wishes to come and see her.” Vanarion spoke, letting Tauriel down, on the grass.

“Then we shall receive him with all respect. I have not seen him since our wedding.” Itaril mused. “Loneliness fits your father like a newly knitted garb. Though I look forward to listening to his tales. They have always mesmerized me.”

“That they did.” Vanarion let out a short laugh. “I am glad he found someone else to tell them to, rather than myself. My years as a child have been plagued by –“

“By tales of his travels, I know.”

The brown eyes of the he-elf were gently set upon his wife, and in them shined adoration. “I see it sometimes in your eyes, the lust for wander. I know you leave sometimes into the darkest of the night, beyond the forest, to gaze upon the vast plains of the east.” The elf-lieutenant seemed to concentrate upon something, before he spoke again. “I still remember the moment of our meeting.”

“It was Mereth-nuin-Giliath.” Itaril continued. “When the moon was at its brightest and the stars shined. Their light filled the air.”

“A white light… How you danced under the moon.” He recollected well that night, a feast he will never forget. Itaril with her hair of flames and eyes like leaves in summer…

“I was not as burdened then, as I am now, you know this well. My blades and arrows long for the bite of our enemies. Our daughter has now a part of us both. It tired me greatly, giving her a part of myself.” Though not all gothwin chose this path, Itaril was glad she did. Her daughter would one day become a warrior as great as herself, a captain, a leader.

The elfling watched how gently her father’s lips touched Itaril’s forehead and he held her into a gentle embrace. Perhaps upon the fourth begetting day of their daughter, he would gift his wife a new dagger. Or something even better, though he had to think of it.

When out of a sudden the sun hid beyond clouds and darkness seemed to surround the glade, both parents knew trouble was expected. Soon guttural shouts were heard in the distance and through the greenery of the trees the two spotted orcs. 

 “Noro!” (Run.) Vanarion shouted to his wife, unsheathing his sword. Not losing a moment, Itaril took Tauriel and started to run. She turned only once to see her husband surrounded by a party of twelve orcs at least, but even then she continued to run. She ran and her face was stern. Tauriel in her arms started to cry for her father, but Itaril shushed her. She could hear the orcs running behind her. Now she cursed her judgment of not remaining closer to the Halls. How could help come, when none knew of their plea? Itaril ran like a rabbit, through the trees and on the ground. But even the fastest preys have their hunters and the orcs did not give up.

When a greenery so thick that no sword could cut through in time came in her way, the she-elf stopped and turned only to see the orcs approaching. She desperately looked around, before hiding Tauriel down near a tree, into a bush. The girl cried, her green eyes not even once leaving the face of her mother. Itaril kissed her forehead and made her a sign to cease, and so she did. The elfling watched her mother quickly grasping her daggers and preparing herself to fight.

“Do you want death orc?” She shouted. “Then let me give it to you!”

And she launched into a fight with no sorts of victory. They were too many for a single person, and even Itaril, Head of the Guard with all her experience could not best them. Out of the eight that surrounded her, three she killed with ease. The last to come behind the others carried the body of Vanarion, though not whole. In one of the creature’s hands was Vanarion’s head. At its sight Itaril gave a scream of horror. Her body bore no armor but a light tunic, a garment not thick enough to slow orcish arrows. In truth it did not. No sword  that orc kind wielded could reach her, but one arrow did. Then another and another. They pierced her stomach and one came close enough to her heart. The she-elf collapsed on the ground and looked one more time straight into Tauriel’s eyes before bloody coughs signaled the end. The face of her daughter was the last thing she saw before dying. Tauriel made no sound and dared not to move. The orc scum did not sense her presence and with victorious laughter, they claimed her mother’s body as well. One argued they should cut off her head and throw it at the gates of the elf-scum. Another said to take them both and feed them to the hungry goblins. In the end, they decided to take her as she was and bring her corpse into the mountains. The elf-man was to rot close to his home, though they took his head and only left the body behind.

Hours later, after not daring to move, long after the orcs left the spot of their crimes, the little child finally left her hiding place. She slowly walked through the grass and her little hands found her mother’s daggers, still soaked in orc blood. A little further lied the mutilated corpse of her father. At its closer sight the child gave a scream.

“Ada!” she stepped back, gluing her eyes back to the tree. “Nana!” she shouted louder, hoping her mother would appear and take her in her arms. “Nana!” she called one more time, before starting to cry. So it was, that this is how King Thranduil stumbled upon her after many other hours, at the sound of her cries. She called again and again for them to come and take her, but her parents would never return. Thranduil gave a gaze full of pain to the child, then his eyes moved to what remained of her father. He made a sign to one of the guards of his escort, to carry his body, as he dismounted his elk and came closer to to the elfling.

Tauriel watched with red, teary eyes the King, though she did not know of his title just yet. He calmly took her into his arms, the cold metal of her armor making the elfling tremble. The orcs did not leave the Woodland Realm, not alive. They were hunted and brought down and Itaril’s corpse and Vanarion’s head were taken back from the scums. The whole realm mourned the loss of two warriors so skilled, of two protectors and friends, who died to defend the one they loved best.

**Author's Note:**

> It is quite crude to say that Tauriel’s first words were at the death of her parents, but here we are.
> 
> A few explicative lore notes:
> 
> \- Elves do not celebrate their birthdays, but rather the day of their begetting (making).  
> \- “Gothwen” (pl. Gothwin) – Battle Maiden(s) are the elven female warriors.  
> \- The entire dialogue is supposed to be in Woodland Sindarin. (A different form from the one encountered in Lindon or Imladris, with a vocabulary largely based on the topic of the forest, and a great mix of basic Sindarin words with east-Avarin and south-Nandorin ones.)  
> \- Tauriel’s first name was to be Itarillë (quenya for “sparkle brilliance” or in its other form: Itaril), which was also the name of Idril Celebrindal of Gondolin. The name was changed due to its Quenya roots, which would have made no sense in the cultural and linguistic environment of Eryn Galen. Even if Itaril is still not completely lore conforming, I have chosen to name her mother in this manner, as a honor to the first choice.  
> \- “Hwerwe” or Elvish Sign Language, described as “a fairly elaborate system containing a large number of conventional gesture-signs” was a military practice used mainly among the population of Eryn Galen/Taur-nu-Fuin/Eryn Lasgalen and Lindórinand/Lórinand/Lothlórien due to the perfect forest climate. It involved the hiding of troops in the thick greenery of the trees at great distances from one another. While elves have excellent hearing, their eyesight is even better, as the soldiers can clearly see each other’s gestures even when they can no longer hear one another, and prepare for an organized attack. The dwarven equivalent is Iglishmek.  
> \- The reason the orcs were arguing on what to do with Itaril’s corpse is because it has been known for women of elvish and mannish descent to be kidnapped and forced into becoming an orc’s consort. (The existence of half-orcs cannot be explained in any other form.) Had she survived the ambush, this would have been her fate.


End file.
